A/N: Hi, all! How you all doing? Been calm for me this past week.
And this was a little difficult for me to write, for I had to border on "Nightmare Fuel" territory. But here is the next chapter
In the dark recesses of the Red Keep, several prisoners were being subjected to the Bolton flaying, as they proved uncooperative in answering his inquiries. But they were never tortured before, so they were soon screaming as pieces of their skin and body parts were cut off.
Overseeing it all was Belthasar Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort, member of the Guardian Council to ensure peace in the crownlands, and appointed Queen's Justice. With the reinstitution of flaying by order of Rhaenyra and her granting him much leeway, he wasn't going to waste his opportunity and thus became very diligent in seeking out the truth behind the riots. I'd be the same way if I had lost my son to these rats.
The first and obvious of the condemned was the man called the Shepherd, the one who started the riots and killed Joffrey Velaryon. Some of his men were attending to the other prisoners, but he was going to take charge in interrogating the Shepherd himself.
"Who started the riots?" Belthasar began as he circled around the Shepherd, tied to a X-shaped cross.
"I did," the Shepherd answered, but that got him a piece of his hand peeled off forcefully and he screamed.
"I don't believe you, old man. You are just an ignorant fool with grand delusions, not capable of accomplishing something this serious. Who started the riots?" Belthasar threw the skin away.
"I did," the Shepherd repeated, which got another piece of skin cut away from him.
However, Lord Bolton was careful not to kill him, as Rhaenyra wanted the man who killed her son alive, to be publicly executed. As the Queen's Justice, he would be responsible for carrying out the death sentence, but he was going to enjoy every moment of the Shepherd's torment before his day came.
The interrogation of the Shepherd was carried over a course of ten days, by which the old man became a sluggish, stammering corpse. Other men deemed responsible for the riots had also ended up in the same manner, as flaying took their minds past the limit of what they could endure. Weak men, these wretches, Belthasar thought in disgust. Why start a fight that you can't even win?
After ten days, Lord Bolton was summoned to the small council chamber. Bowing to Rhaenyra, he submitted his report, which was passed around to the rest of the members. Cregan, Rhaenys, Helaena, Corlys Velaryon, and Bartimos Celtigar were among those that gulped, knowing how Lord Bolton got his information. He gave his Lord Paramount a look of smugness. You might be the Warden of the North, but I am finally doing what your family took away from mine. And you can't stop it.
"Well, Lord Belthasar? Did you find out who is responsible for the riots?" Rhaenyra asked with some impatience.
"Your Grace, after some investigation into the matter, I've concluded that the Shepherd is not the main instigator of the riots. In fact, he might have been the front, as a fanatic like himself is not capable of organizing something as widespread and as damaging as the storming of the dragonpit and causing so much damage to the city," Lord Bolton told her.
"If not him, then who did?" Daemon put down Lord Bolton's report.
"Your Grace, I have some suspicions on who might be behind this tragedy. It's very possible that this riot was organized by your enemies, chiefly those who serve your brother, the usurper. Only they would have the motive and the means to arrange the riots in the hopes of damaging your standing among the population," Lord Bolton said.
"Do you have any evidence supporting that?" Lady Mysaria inquired.
"I don't, my lady," Lord Bolton admitted. "But considering how much damage they have done to our greatest assets and how they seemed crazed in trying to kill Her Grace and the family, I can't find think of anyone else that wants to hurt our queen."
"What do you propose then, Lord Belthasar?" Lord Corlys asked.
"We might need to expand the number of people who might have had some involvement in the riots, including all of those we have in the Black Cells who also served the usurper. I suggest that we treat all prisoners who fought for Aegon and Aemond as suspects, for they might know the truth."
"And who do you suggest we question first?"
"There's only one person in my mind who can shed some light into the riots, and that's Archmaester Orwyle."
"He's no archmaester anymore. That honor belongs to Gerardys alone," Rhaenyra corrected him.
"My apologies, Your Grace," Lord Bolton answered. "The reason why I think that we should question Orwyle is because he is the only one left that was here in King's Landing and served Aegon's interests. Considering how much damage this city suffered from the riots, it's only logical that we seek answers from him."
The council glanced at each other, with Rhaenyra and Daemon whispering. "All right," Daemon nodded. "He's a prisoner. So, question him. However, you will do so while cooperating with Lady Mysaria, since Orwyle will not be swayed by physical coercion alone. Also, because he is partly responsible for this mess, you will question him in the presence of the Queen, myself, Helaena, Lord Stark, and the rest of the council. Will there be a problem with that?"
Belthasar rubbed his chin. So, they want to watch me question him, and thus flay him. "There will no problem, Your Grace."
"Good. You can begin his questioning in the throne room, but it will be a private session," Rhaenyra ordered him. "Do what you have to, Lord Bolton."
"As you wish," Lord Bolton bowed.
Setting up the X-shaped cross in the middle of the throne room, two guards dragged a chained Orwyle there, with Rhaenyra watching from the Iron Throne. The guards tied him up to the cross and stepped back while Belthasar readied his knife and Lady Mysaria circled the former maester, with her hands behind her back.
"What is this? Why am I like this?" Orwyle showed his shock at being tied like that.
"Quiet!" Belthasar hissed. "You do not speak unless you have an answer to our questions. You understand?"
"A northern barbarian. Didn't you could survive this far south," but Orwyle's poor attempt at a jest was met with a punch to the belly, forcing the wind out of him.
"Let's begin," Lady Mysaria told Lord Bolton. "How long have you been in this city, Orwyle?"
"No more than three years. I'm sorry, who are you?" Orwyle asked.
"You do not ask the questions, but how rude of me. I am Mysaria, mistress of whisperers to Her Grace the Queen," the Lysene responded.
"Ah, Daemon's whore." That got him another blow from Lord Bolton, this time a kick to his balls. He groaned in pain, but he was unable to double over as his arms and legs were tied.
"Are maesters always this rude?"
"Being a prisoner for the length of time that I was can do many things to one's mind, and I am no exception," Orwyle spoke.
"But before you were more… agreeable, did you have connections with people throughout this city, people of influence who know how to organize many of the smallfolk?" Lord Bolton asked.
"Sure, I did. As Archmaester, I had to be familiar with who was in charge of this city besides the royal family."
"And those would include local leaders, men who could organize a throng given enough direction and influence?" Mysaria pressed.
"Yes," Orwyle said slowly, but he was not following their line of thought.
"And those men would consider themselves devoted to the Faith of the Seven, correct?" Lord Bolton inquired.
"It's impossible to be part of the community in this city without worshipping the Seven, something a northern barbarian like yourself would not understand," but Orwyle was punched hard in the face by Belthasar, so hard that blood came out of his mouth.
"Would you happen to know a man referred to as the Shepherd?"
"I'm afraid not. Who is he?" But Belthasar knew when a man played dumb and he could detect the maester lying through his teeth. Keep this going, for he has to say it, he told himself.
"That's funny, because I thought that you would know the answer," Belthasar stated.
"What?" Orwyle looked at him curiously.
"Bring in the prisoner," Mysaria called out to the guards.
From the side of the throne room came the form of Larys Strong. He had always walked with a limp, but Orwyle could see that the guards had to drag him next to the X-shaped cross. What was more horrifying to him was that Larys looked very broken in spirit, as he saw cuts on his face and one of his ears was missing.
"Lord Strong," Orwyle whispered.
"We caught him outside of Rosby trying to escape. And he had much to say, once some of his skin was cut off," Belthasar waved his knife in the maester's face.
"You barbaric scum!" Orwyle growled before glaring at Rhaenyra. "You allowed this?"
"You gave me no choice the day you gave that ultimatum at Dragonstone, so if there is anyone to blame, it's you," Rhaenyra looked at him hard.
"I am tempted to have Lord Strong say what he told me, and he's quite talkative once you know which parts to cut off. But I want to give you the opportunity to say your piece without suffering what he had to suffer. Will you take it?"
"If you continue to be obstinate, not only will Lord Bolton cut your flesh off slowly, he might also unleash his knives upon others who have even a minor role in the riots," Mysaria warned. "What will you choose?"
Orwyle looked at Lord Strong, who was barely able to remain conscious, and he couldn't imagine what the master of whisperers had to go through under the flaying blades of House Bolton. I'd rather meet the Father as a whole rather in pieces, he decided.
"I have something to say, and I hope this is an answer to your question," Orwyle readied himself.
"What is it you want to say?" Rhaenyra crossed her arms.
Orwyle breathed in and out. "Aegon the First of His Name was crowned King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. His son, Maegor the First of His Name, burned down the Sept of Remembrance while taking his niece as a wife. His nephew Jaehaerys the Conciliator put forward a false doctrine which allowed a hideous practice to be continued amongst those that ruled us. No matter what he did, it only delayed the inevitable."
"What was 'inevitable?'" Cregan asked.
"Your ancestor, Torrhen Stark, might have been smart, but you're not one of us and therefore, you could never understand the humiliation that we felt."
"What humiliation?" Daemon pressed.
"This city, this castle, your iron chair, this stench… do you know who made it all? Dragons made it. This city never existed before Aegon the Conqueror came here, and it never should have, because it allowed godless dragonspawn a foothold into a holy land, a land where people worshipped the Seven and knew their place," Orwyle declared.
Rhaenyra, Daemon, Rhaenys and Helaena started to understand what he was saying, while Cregan and the rest watched.
"You showed everyone that magic was alive and well, that the Doom of Valyria had done nothing since the dragons survived. Your family were not kings, but you conquered over others and showed us that we're powerless. Do you know how humiliating it was to see you lot, who practice incest and dark magic, rule over us when we followed everything that the Seven mandated?"
"What are you saying?" Helaena's fist tightened.
"Lord Strong only worked with me because he thought that I only wanted to hurt you, Queen Rhaenyra. However, all dragons are a threat and therefore must be eliminated."
"You started the riots," Lord Bolton figured out.
"That's right. Shame that it only got the Velaryon bastard and only one. Although we were successful at other times," Orwyle eyed at Helaena.
Helaena finally realized it. "You… Daemon never sent Blood and Cheese after me?"
"Of course not. They only said that because I knew that it would feed off of your existing distrust of him. I did," Orwyle admitted.
"Why?" Helaena was close to exploding in rage.
"As I said, all dragons are a threat. The less there are in the world, the better. And the world already knows that dragons can die, so we prove the point further and show to the people just how cursed dragons really are."
The realization had hit Helaena hard, to the point where her breathing became uneven. All this time, she harbored distrust towards Daemon, which turned into hatred once Blood revealed that he was on the pay of the Rogue Prince and Lady Mysaria. Doubt set in when she saw how Daemon reacted when she accused with what Blood divulged. It all seemed to convenient, as Daemon was not above killing children who were a threat to himself and she was not ready to believe that he had changed.
But here was Orwyle, someone she had trusted and someone she had thought who served her well. Never did it enter her mind that this maester would be so treacherous. Her son died because of Orwyle and her other son was probably in danger. She stepped forward and glared at the maester, fire replacing the shock.
"You and your ilk did this because you see yourselves as victims?!" Helaena wanted nothing more than to cut his throat for his self-righteousness, and to avenge her son.
"And you think you're better than us?" he ignored her. "Without dragons, you're just like us. You people need a lesson in humility."
Daemon was close to stomping to Orwyle and cutting his head off with Dark Sister. "When Aegon told Rhaenyra to submit to him, you suggested it."
"Whatever problems that existed in your family were on all of you dragonspawn. We merely helped it go to its natural conclusion."
"We?" Corlys was surprised.
"I'm not saying any more," Orywle closed his mouth.
"By 'we,' I think he means the rest at the Citadel and possibly at the Starry Sept," Lady Mysaria surmised.
Orywle instantly became fearful. "No, no. The Citadel had nothing to do with it! Just some others who wanted the dragons to kill each other."
"And there it is," Lord Bolton gave a sick smile. "Looks like the maesters and the Faith are all out to get us."
"If you hate all of the dragons, why did you side with Aegon then?" Cregan asked.
"Because he was the most thoroughly shaped by the native traditions of this continent, and he was more easily pliable to our interests. Once enough damage was done, we would have found a way to eliminate him also and work our way down to the last roots of the dragons," Orwyle strongly stated.
Rhaenyra stepped closer to the chained maester as she moved down from the Iron Throne. While she never could call herself as pious, the fact that the maesters and the Faith had been actively plotting against them disturbed her. It also showed her that even in this castle, they, her children, her family, were not safe. And because there were so few of them, their position couldn't have been more precarious. The approach Jaehaerys adopted had not worked and if they wanted to survive, things had to change. Things will never be the same again.
"You're right about some things. The Iron Throne was created from nothing, I'll give you that. And the Red Keep didn't exist before Maegor came along. So much pain has been caused by this throne and this castle. You are right about that," she said.
Orwyle looked unmoved.
"But you're forgetting something else. We were perfectly willing to abide by your traditions. Jaehaerys converted to the Faith, Aegon the Conqueror did, we created laws that respected your customs, and we did some others in order to make it easier for us to govern. But obviously, that wasn't enough for you. You continually saw us as threats no matter what we did, and because we have magic, we will never truly be your rulers. So, thank you."
"For what?" The maester was confused.
"For letting us all know what must happen from now on if we are to survive. We tried to live by your rules, but now, everyone will have to live by ours." She turned to Helaena. "What do you want to do with him? He killed your son, little Jaehaerys, just like he killed mine."
Helaena grinded her teeth, looking at Cregan momentarily before turning her gaze to Belthasar Bolton. "He deserves to die, but I want him in pain before you put his head on a spike. Flay him."
Cregan blinked in nervousness while Belthasar grinned. "With pleasure, Your Grace."
"As for the Shepherd and Lord Strong, have them hanged, drawn, and quartered, but their limbs will adorn each gate of this city," Rhaenyra commanded.
"And the other prisoners?" Ser Torrhen asked.
"Have them flayed and displayed on those crosses. Blood was spilled, so blood must be shed."
Rhaenyra left with Daemon, Rhaenys, Corlys, and the rest of the small council. Except for Helaena and Cregan, who both watched as Orwyle began the painful journey to his death under Belthasar's knife. While Helaena watched with deep satisfaction, Cregan remained at her side, sensing that she needed someone to lean on even during this time. She turned to him and smiled, proving that she appreciated his gesture.
But Cregan was not going to get used to the maester's screams, which lasted for a few hours.
Baela cooed at the little babe in her arms while Nettles was sitting upright in her bed. The birth took much of her strength and she fainted as her child came out of her womb. The babe, who had brown hair and amethyst eyes, was a healthy boy, the posthumous son of Jacaerys Velaryon. The relief that set in following the boy's condition was soon replaced by anxiety, as him being of the loins of the eldest Velaryon and of a smallfolk girl might complicate the succession since as far as many knew, Jacaerys was the grandson of Rhaenys and thus this child had a claim on the Iron Throne, bastard or not. What's more, his eyes were all that anyone needed to know that he came from the dragons.
But at that moment, Baela chose not to concern herself with such matters. Having taken to the Lady Nettes very well, she was happy that she was a mother and could only await the day when she would have children of her own. If the gods will it, I want Daeron to be the father and my husband, she thought with hope.
Baela passed the babe to Rhaena, who smiled at the baby boy while also holding little Visenya. She moved to Nettles' side and clasped her hand.
"How are you feeling?"
"Better," Nettles answered. "Didn't expect giving birth to be so painful."
"That's… probably one of the things I don't look forward to when I have my children someday."
"But I worry."
"Why do you worry?" Baela asked.
"I might be lowborn, but I am not ignorant in knowing who my child is. Jacaerys might have fathered him, but he's a bastard. While I understand that Her Grace the Queen promised that he will be raised well, the stain of bastardy can never go away. Take a look at myself."
"Well, you could ride a dragon. That has to count for much," Baela offered.
"But I can't guarantee that my son will have a good life. He might end up like me, stuck on some island without a home. He might inherit the coin that Jacaerys gave me when I claimed Sheepstealer, but it won't last him forever."
"Nettles," Baela held her hand tighter. "Now is not the time to be worried about that. You have a child, a healthy boy. Shouldn't his first memories be with a happy mother? Don't burden yourself with all of the fears in the world and focus on the joys that we have right now."
Nettles pursed his lips before nodding. "Your Grace, may I have my baby?" she put her arms out.
Rhaena looked relieved of handing her baby boy back to her, as handling two babes was trying for her arms. Nettles gently held the baby boy and smiled.
"Do you have a name for the baby boy?" Baela inquired.
"I don't know. I never thought I would be a mother, so I don't have much knowledge on what would be a good name for a boy," Nettles admitted.
"We could run some names by you, see if any are to your liking," Rhaena suggested.
"That'd be a good idea, Your Grace," Nettles agreed.
Baela suggested strong sounding names like Justin, Rickard, and Vaemond while Rhaena thought names like Davos, Edwell, and Maric would also be great. Baela also put forward some Valyrian names like Vaemond, Haegon, and Gaemon.
Nettles stopped Rhaena when she passed by one name. "I like Vaegon."
"Hmmm," Baela tapped her fingers. "The name of one of the sons by Jaehaerys the Conciliator, who took more to books than to arms."
"That already sounds promising. I don't want my son to be a warrior, since we all know what war is. Must I condemn him to more violence?" Nettles expressed her worry.
Baela and Rhaena glanced at each other, still unsure on her choice of name. "Nettles, I don't know how much you are aware of Westeros' history, but Vaegon Targaryen was the one that suggested the Great Council that ultimately led to this war."
"Please spare me the histories. I don't have it in me to understand such things and even if I did, I wouldn't want to know because it is something that I can never know. I like the sound of Vaegon, more so because he was not a warrior, so please respect my choice," Nettles was adamant.
Baela exhaled before nodding. "It's your babe after all. So, you name him."
"Very well. You will be safe with me… Vaegon," Nettles pinched his cheek.
Maybe there's hope after all. If Nettles continues to be in his life, maybe little Vaegon will not follow in his namesake's footsteps.
The door to Nettles' chambers opened, and in came Rhaenyra. Nettles moved to curtsey, but she went to her bed and set her back against the pillow.
"Rest. You need it. Childbirth is never an easy business and one must recover well," Rhaenyra told her. "How is my grandson?"
"Very well, Your Grace," Nettles grinned and overjoyed that the Queen overlooked the fact that her baby son was a bastard.
"Did you give him a name?"
"Yes. His name is Vaegon, Your Grace."
Rhaenyra processed that, before bobbing her head out of respect. "May I hold him?" Nettles handed little Vaegon into her waiting arms and like the rest of her babes, she held him gently and cooed at him. "Nice to meet you, Vaegon. Welcome to the family," she showed her happiness before handing him back to Nettles. "When you are done, Lady Nettles, I need you to report to me. I have a task for you."
"May I ask what you require of me, Your Grace?" Nettles asked.
"All you need to know now is that we need all the dragonriders in the air. I'll give you time to rest and recover. Girls, allow the lady a moment of her peace with her son."
Baela and Rhaena complied, but she gave Nettles one final grin before leaving her chambers.
Following Rhaenyra back to her solar, where their father Daemon and grandparents Corlys Velaryon and Rhaenys were already there, they sat down.
"So, the babe of Nettles shall be called Vaegon Waters. May he grow up into a fine man," Rhaenyra began.
Rhaenys' eyes darkened, the memory of her uncle Vaegon screwing her over with the Great Council very fresh in her mind. "Why did Lady Nettles pick such a cursed name? Does she not know how much damage my dimwitted uncle had done to this family?"
"She doesn't know the entire story, grandmother, and I don't think she really cares, but she didn't have malicious intentions," Baela defended Nettles.
Corlys, on the other hand, was less solemn. "My grandson Prince Jacaerys had a son, a bastard. If I may submit a request, Your Grace."
"What is it?" Rhaenyra turned to her former goodfather and Hand.
"I am thankful that you allowed Addam Velaryon a place to the line of succession to Driftmark. But to secure my line, may I suggest that Vaegon also be included and be legitimized as Vaegon Velaryon, as he does carry my son's blood?"
Rhaenyra clicked her tongue, not exactly liking what Corlys was asking of her, but she didn't want to cause her former goodfather to be angry after all he had done for her. "I'll keep it in mind, but right now, we have more important matters to discuss." She turned to Baela and Rhaena. "The small council are already aware of what's going on, but you two should also know."
"Know what, muña?" Baela could sense the serious tone in her voice.
"We've just reports from our army in Tumbleton. We've won a great victory over Criston Cole, who was captured and is now on his way to King's Landing," Rhaenyra stated. "However, Lord Dustin was killed while engaged in personal combat with Ser Criston."
Baela didn't know the leader of the "Winter Wolves" very well, but she liked the old northman, who proved that age was no limit on one's strength. "That's… unfortunate to hear, regarding Lord Dustin. He seemed like a fine warrior. But it's great that we won."
"We might have won against them, but the situation has now turned for the worst, one that negated the effects of our victory at Tumbleton," Daemon joined in.
"How so?"
"Hugh and Ulf, they burned Tumbleton after betraying us and thus killed many of our surviving troops. They've taken Silverwing and Vermithor and have flown somewhere further south," Rhaenys revealed.
Baela first felt anger at the dragonseeds. They already gained her ire for daring to speak to her in that manner before her father and Lord Cregan beat them both to a pulp. She shouldn't have been surprised that they would do something like betraying the ones that allowed them to ride dragons in the first place, but she would have thought that even they would know better than to turn against the ones they've sworn to fight fore.
Then anger turned to fear, as Ulf and White controlled two very formidable dragons. If they managed to defect to the usurpers, the war would have taken a turn for the worse.
"Have they declared allegiance to Aegon the Usurper?" Rhaena also expressed her worry.
"We don't believe so, and we don't think that they're going to do that either," Rhaenys spoke.
"Why do you think so, grandmother?"
"Think about it, Baela. They don't hold the name Targaryen, but they can ride dragons. Given their behavior in court and what they've done at Tumbleton, it's very possible that they feel no allegiance to the true dragons on either side and thus will try to carve out their own domain because they think that's their right," Rhaenys explained.
"That's preposterous," Rhaena scoffed.
"Even so, they are dangerous and therefore we need all the dragons we can to fly into the air and beat them," Daemon asserted.
"Where do we come in?" Baela looked at her parents, grandmother, and grandsire.
"As soon as Nettles recovers, I need her to ride Sheepstealer again, but this time into battle. We need her," her father stressed.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea, kepa. She still has much to learn when it comes to dragonriding," Baela saw her lessons with Rhaenys and with Rhaenyra.
"At this point, we have no choice. We are without two dragons and we have to deal with them before they cause serious damage. She must enter the fray."
Baela sighed before nodding. "Okay. But why did you also call me?"
Rhaenyra, Daemon, Rhaenys, and Corlys glanced at each other in concern. What's going on?
"Baela, sweetie, we don't want to put you in this situation, but we have no choice. We need you to mount Moondancer and fly into battle with Nettles," Corlys spoke.
Baela's eyes widened while Rhaena blinked rapidly.
"Grandfather, I— I— I never fought in battle before. And I was just able to mount Moondancer a few moons ago. She doesn't stand a chance against Vermithor and Silverwing," Baela stammered while trying to contain her fear.
"You are the blood of the dragon, Baela, so your connection with Moondancer will be much stronger than Nettles' with Sheepstealer," Daemon explained. "You have a close relationship with Nettles, so you both will be able to rely on each other. And as much as it pains my heart, you were going to enter battle one way or another. Ulf's and Hugh's betrayal merely sped up when you were going to fight."
"But kepa! I can't fight. I don't know how," Baela stuttered.
"That's where you're mistaken, sweetie. You are just like me in that you are combative, and I saw you fight with the squires. You're a fighter, so allow your instincts to guide you."
"What about you? Will you fight with us?"
"I'm not going to leave you unprotected. That's why we will have Addam Velaryon ride with you on Seasmoke, give you extra protection."
Baela was dubious on Addam's ability with a dragon. Seasmoke was as large as Tessarion and thus had a better chance than Moondancer in a fight, but Addam still had a long way to go before he could call himself a master dragonrider.
"Baela, this is important to us. We're still needed here in this city and we can't be in every place all at once," Rhaenyra was not so cold as to have her stepdaughter enter combat at her age. "You'll have a better chance with three dragons against two and Ulf and Hugh are also not experienced fighters. If we allow them both to engage in wanton destruction of our lands, who knows when it will end? We have to end them now."
"But what about grandmother? Can't she fly with us?" Baela looked to Rhaenys.
"Between all of us, we only have six dragons left. Syrax, Caraxes, and Meleys must remain in the city to protect against Aemond and the others," Rhaenys stated. "I wish I could come fight with you, child, but this is something you must do without us."
"Please, Baela. We need you. We wouldn't be asking this if there were no other choice," Daemon was practically begging.
Baela gulped. She might have been more inclined to fighting than Rhaena, but the prospect of actual combat frightened her. She only saw the corpses in the aftermath of the riots, but to actually be the one responsible for ending lives was another matter.
But Baela knew that her family needed her, and she did always dream of flying a dragon into battle, just like the Targaryens of old. Breathing in and out, Baela nodded. "Very well, kepa. I'll fly."
Daemon and Rhaenyra walked to Baela, had her stand up, and pulled her into a tight hug while Rhaenys and Corlys patted her on the back.
"Thank you," Daemon whispered.
"You have done the same for me before. It's only right that I repay what you've done for us," Baela assured.
"Just to be clear, you owe us nothing because you are family. But thank you for that," Rhaenyra looked at her in the eyes.
"But how will we find them?" Rhaena asked.
"If I were them, I'd head deeper in the Reach. It's the only place that has rich targets and has enemies that they've already been fighting," Daemon thought aloud. "Once everything is ready, you'll fly south and find them."
A knock came on the door of the solar. "Yes?" Rhaenyra called out.
Ser Torrhen Manderly entered. "Your Grace," he dipped his head. "The prisoner Criston Cole has just been delivered to the Red Keep, along with the body of Roderick Dustin."
The Targaryens and Corlys looked at each other with glee. So, the steward kingsguard is now in our hands, Baela thought happily. Let's see how smug he is now.
"Bring Criston Cole to where Syrax is and have Lord Cregan attend to the remains of Roderick Dustin. Tell him that I will gladly bury Lord Dustin at my own expense for all services rendered," Rhaenyra told Ser Torrhen
"Yes, Your Grace," Ser Torrhen bowed before exiting the solar.
Rhaenyra and Daemon had looks of satisfaction on their face, resembling predators about to pounce on their prey. "Shall we, Nyra?" Daemon asked Rhaenyra.
"Let's," she kissed him deeply before all made their way to where Syrax was resting in the Red Keep.
Upon arriving there, they found Criston Cole on his knees, without his armor, without his kingsguard cloak, and in chains. He looked disheveled, his head bandaged from the wounds he suffered at Tumbleton, but there was still a look of defiance in his eyes.
All of the small council, including Helaena, Cregan Stark, and Lord Bolton had gathered around to see the Cole knight, the one they had heard and seen so much about, finally being humbled.
Ser Corwyn Corbray dipped his head at Rhaenyra before turning to Daemon. "Your Grace, I present to you Ser Criston Cole, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard," he introduced.
"No introductions are necessary, Ser Corwyn, but he's no Lord Commander. That honor alone rests with Ser Lorent Marbrand," Daemon turned to the Marbrand knight, who nodded his thanks.
"My apologies, Your Grace. I give you his sword and his white cloak," Ser Corwyn held both out, which Daemon took.
"Good work, Ser Corwyn. You've done us all a great service and House Corbray shall get its just recompense," Rhaenyra promised him.
As for Criston, he looked up at Rhaenyra, anger evident in his eyes. But compared to the last time, there was no doubt who held the greater power at the moment.
"Good to see you again, Ser Criston," Rhaenyra gave him a smug smile.
A/N: For those that might have a problem with Rhaenyra authorizing flaying, remember that this was an extraordinary measure given the times that they are in. But they were able to get the truth, in that a conspiracy was always at work against them. Now, the dragons will be united against a common foe and no longer will they be the manipulated.
Vaegon will be someone to keep an eye on, but the great duel with the dragonseeds is about to happen and Criston Cole will get his comeuppance. :D